Better Than Wine
by elloteenah
Summary: Home from the hospital, Carla tries to forget about the problems she's dealing with. It's not not that hard with Nick there to help her. Happiness for a little while longer is all she wants.


**Just a little something that topped into my head after Carla came home from the hospital. Holding onto that little bit of hope before it all comes crashing down and she leaves. I want to go back to when they were smitten little puppies.**

* * *

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his key in the door. Finally, he was home.

Carla dropped her magazine instantly and threw it down on the coffee table, not caring where it landed. She winced at the aching pain that shot through her body as she pulled herself up from the couch using her good arm.

"Oh, thank God you're home," she mused as she walked towards him.

Nick had barely gotten his keys out of the before he felt her body pressed into his back, her arm wrapping around his torso.

"Hello to you, too," he chuckled, throwing his keys down on top of the small cabinet beside him.

He turned around and wrapped his arms around her waist before kissing her forehead.

"I've been bored out of my mind," Carla said with a huff. "There's only so many re-runs of emJeremy/em emKyle/em I can watch before I start relating to them."

"Well, I have to say, for someone who was recently dragged along the cobbles by a speeding car, you still look better than ninety-nine point nine percent of them," he nodded.

Carla smiled widely, tilting her head to the side lovingly. No matter how daft his compliments were, they filled her heart with love every time.

Nick leaned forward and kissed her lips once. Pulling back after a second, he looked into her eyes then down to her lips before going in for a second time. Then third. By the fourth time, he realised he was wasting time and simply couldn't resist her. Every part of his body ached for her touch, her taste.

Carla reciprocated, deepening the kiss. She brought her hand up to his cheek, she rubbed the roughness of his light stubble along the pads of her fingertips. She smiled into their lip-lock.

"I missed you," she breathed against his lips.

"I missed you," he said, pulling away.

Nick moved his hands to her hips, careful not to brush against any bruising that was still raw from the incident.

He frowned slightly when the material covering her skin didn't feel the same as the dressing gown she'd worn this morning before he left for work. He looked her outfit up and down.

"You got changed?" he questioned.

Dressed in her usual black jeans and a loose fitting back shirt, it wasn't exactly the comfy nightwear she was wearing when he last saw her.

"Yeah," Carla said, unconfidently. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Aidan called. There was some trouble at the factory that needed sorting. I was only gone an hour tops. Didn't really want to go in—it was a struggle—but it's my factory. I was scared Johnny had done something terrible."

"Had he?"

"No, just some supplier Aidan had seen the other day, wondering about some bits," she shrugged. "I had to walk it. Didn't think it did me any good, but I couldn't face driving. I wore flats, don't worry."

Nick's face dropped. "You should have called me, I would have got cover—"

"Oh, c'mon, it's around the corner," she rubbed his chest. "I'm fine."

"The doctor said no excuse or driving for the next couple of weeks until your ribs are better and your off the drugs, I—"

"She also said no drinking with the medication but I can't see myself going full term with that one," she raised her eyebrows.

"Carla—"

"I'm joking, Nick," she kissed his chin to reassure him. "I'll try and be on my best behaviour."

"Okay," he gave a little smile. "Other than that, have you been okay today?"

"Yeah, a little bit sore and achy but, like I said, that walk probably hasn't helped."

"Do you need to wash your hair tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, probably," she thought about it. "The last shower I had was in that hospital. Not a comfortable experience. Why?"

"How about I run us a bath?" he suggested, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "You can wash your hair and the hot water might help ease your pain, yeah?"

Carla nodded, humming in content. She kissed him again in thanks.

"I tell you what," Nick said, stepping back. He took her hands and intertwined them with his. "Let's have something to eat, then we have the evening to relax, sound good?"

"Sounds amazing. I love you."

"I know you do," he smiled. "I love you, too. Do you want candles with that bath?"

Carla shook her head no. She did think about it. A hot bath with the man she loved lit by candle light sounded perfect but with the recent event and still haunted by the memories of the fire, she declined.

"Okay…" he whispered.

* * *

Carla let all her worries go as Nick rubbed shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp gently. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, Nick kissed her cheek. His actions unwinding her body completely.

He brought up conversation about Johnny and the factory, what had happened, what the problem was when they got comfortable but she brushed it off. She told him now wasn't the time to discuss it. She just wanted to relax and not think about anything to do with Daddy Dearest right now.

Nick quickly forgot he even brought it up.

She wanted to tell him everything. Not just about issues with Underworld but the secrets she was keeping from him. About Robert, about his threats and what Johnny had done to "protect her" but now wasn't the time so she didn't let it faze her. It was eating away at her but she just wanted to enjoy the moment with her fiancé, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted to enjoy his happiness a little longer before she tore his world a part and telling him about her stupid drunken mistake with his chef.

She knew sooner was better than later. She knew it would be less painful but the past few days had be stressful and Nick had been there every step of the way, she couldn't take away his happiness. She wanted to be looked at like the best thing money couldn't buy for a little longer. She deserved that happiness, didn't she? The way a recently engaged woman is suppose to feel, right? Just a little bit longer.

She reclined further into his body when she felt his lips on her skin. She went to rest her head on his shoulder but the sudden movement caused her body to slip and she managed to catch her herself before she felt under the water by grabbing onto the edges of the bath.

Nick was quick to react and kept her broken arm above the water. He pushed her body up in to a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" he wondered. "Is your cast wet?"

"Stupid thing," Carla groaned. He caught her just in time. She had been told to avoid getting her cast wet because the water would cause it to disintegrate. "I hate it. It's so annoying and uncomfortable. And it itches."

"Aw," he kissed her shoulder blade. "Just six more weeks to go."

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. Then maybe we can get back to—"

She stopped herself then shuffled a laugh.

"What?"

"I was going to say 'back to normal'," she grinned, "…again. I'm not so sure now, though."

"Here," Nick signalled her back into his embrace. "Let's get the shampoo out of your hair before it goes in your eyes. I think we'll focus on getting you're better first, babe."

She closed her eyes as he tilted her head back and poured water from her hairline down, ridding the first layer of suds. "Hmm. It's a few broken bones and bruising. Hardly a scratch to what you've been through. I'll be back to myself next week."

"And internal bleeding, Carla," he reminded her. "You need to take it easy. We can manage for a while and still have money for the wedding."

"I don't know," she moaned as he massaged in the conditioner. "Being alone in these four walls might send me do-dally after a while."

"Well then, find yourself a hobby in the meantime," he suggested. "Or I could see if Simon would let you look after Eccles."

"I had one, look where it got me," she reflected on the past year. Gambling nearly lost her everything—it could still have her lose everything. "And, God, no! That dog and it's yapping. Besides, I thought you said we'd get kittens."

"Let's not think about that," he whispered. "If it's kittens that you want, I'll get you one. Can we talk about the wedding? Do you think your cast will be off in time?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "Six weeks, remember? We aren't getting married until the end of May."

"You never know, your arm might not heal in time! I went to school with a boy who broke his leg. It was so bad, it didn't mend properly for a year. He had so many different coloured casts and an operation in the end," Nick informed her on the worst possible outcome. He was telling the truth. The break got so bad where he refused to not be active child he was, the doctors considered taking bones fragments from his hips if the bone in his leg got any weaker. "Mind you, he did play football on it rather than resting it like the doctor ordered."

"Exactly. I'm hardly going to go overboard, Tilsley. I'll be fine." Carla said matter-of-factly. "Are you done yet? I think my toes are turning into raisins," she wiggled her toes under the water.

"Almost," he responded. "You know, I can't wait until we're married for one reason in particular."

"What's that?"

"I can get you back for the amount of times you've called me Tilsley," he smirked. He run his fingers through her hair, making sure he had cleaned out the shades completely. When he was satisfied, he moved her highlighted locks over one shoulder, admiring the skin of her back.

"You love it," she turned to look at his face. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the love in his eyes. "Would you prefer I called you Nicky more?"

Nick groaned, shaking his head and scrunching up his face in disgust. "No."

Carla's smile reached her eyes and she giggled before grabbing hold of his chin and shaking it slightly between her thumb and index knuckle, a reminder of the first time she called him by the nickname.

* * *

Carla sat on the floor in her dressing gown, her legs pushed to her chest, arms wrapped and fingers joined together around her shins and her chin rested on her knees, eyes closed as Nick sat behind her on the sofa, trying to untangled the wire on her hairdryer.

"This isn't going to be a regular thing is it? I can look after myself, you know," Carla said calmly. "I don't expect you to do this for me. I can figure out how to do all this with one-handed."

"I don't plan on it," Nick chuckled. He leaned over the edge of the sofa to plug the appliance in. He placed it down beside him and grabbed a hairbrush first and combed out any knots. "Just for the meantime when I can. Just enjoy it."

"Oh, I will," she mused. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said. He was startled when he turned the hairdryer on full blast, the sudden bolt of electricity and movement taking him by surprise. It made Carla giggle.

She couldn't remember the last time someone did her hair for her. The obvious answer was Audrey or David at the salon but she was aiming more towards the more memorable. Like a sleepover or wedding. It probably was Michelle or someone on the morning of her last but that didn't count for much nowadays. And she was never one for sleepovers. Went to the odd one when she was a little girl but she never actually wanted to be there, purely went for the experience, to see what the fuss was about.

"This doesn't feel right. I can't remember my Mum ever doing this for me," she spoke loud enough to be heard over the noise before she paused. Her earliest childhood memories of school where checking her Mum was still breathing before getting out of the house as quickly as possible. Luckily, when you're a junior, the way your hair looks isn't the talk of the classroom. By the time she was eleven she had perfected how to throw her hair up by herself. "Or my Dad for that matter. Either of them."

She felt at peace in the moment, content as Nick always made her feel. Finally relaxed after weeks of hell. The low playing of music from the radio and source of light from the lamps scattered in corners of the fact helped. She didn't want to ruin that peace but she felt what she just said needed saying. A small reminder on what she'd missed out on.

Nick turned the hairdryer off to hear her better. He grabbed the brush again. She leaned her head back again. "This kind of thing doesn't make a parent."

"I know. It's just one of those things though, isn't it? A memory every girl has," she half-smiled.

She had a memory of brushing Hayley's hair in the final days but it wasn't the same. It was thin and not her time. Maybe if Carla's little girl had survived she'd be brushing her hair right now, telling her stories when she got her ready for bed. Maybe life would be completely different. Maybe for the better, who knew.

"Are you okay?" Nick whispered, noticing she'd gone quiet. He touched her shoulder.

"Yeah," she whispered back, placing her hand on top of his. "I was reminiscing. Thank you for this. Again."

"No problem."

He got up and sat down beside her on the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable carpet in the world but it'd do for a while. He bent his legs and rested his forearms on his knees.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" he asked.

"No," Carla said slowly, shaking her head. "It's quite nice, actually, sitting in silence. Listen out for any sounds. Take in surroundings. It really clears out you head."

Nick pursed his lips and nodded.

He'd always known it but over the past year he'd really gotten to understand Carla's persona. She had the ability to be a hotheaded, cold-hearted bitch but then the most good-natured, kind-hearted woman he'd ever come across.

He didn't want to handle her, separate her from her ways because they had their reasons, he simply wanted to make her life easier, give her the happiness that he believed she deserved.

Nick wasn't prefect by any means. He still beats himself up over his head injury. Brain damage that could been avoided if he'd been smarter over his actions.

He had his bad days. Days he leashed out, said the wrong thing out of frustration and anger. Made mistakes he wish he could take back. Hurt the people trying to help him but he was bettering himself.

He wanted to be strong and supportive for Carla. Show his caring side more and control his temper because he really did love Carla and he didn't want to lose her.

Carla was right, silence is good. It was rare Nick analysed his injury. He preferred not to think about it, it brought back too many bad memories. Now he didn't have to do it again. Strangely, he felt like it will make him understand Carla more, what's going on inside her head. Even if she didn't want to listen to his experiences, he was always open to listening to hers.

 _I'm certain that you,_ _Carla Connor, with all your flaws, are the woman I'm going to marry._

"You know the only thing that would make right now more perfect?" she whispered, nudging his shoulder. He shook his head. "Wine."

He chuckled slightly. Typical Carla. "Too bad."

She shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's fine, you'll do for now."

Nick gasped. Carla lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him with a sly grin. "Are you telling me you prefer the company of wine over me?"

"For a long time, yes," her face dropped. "I think I can go without for six weeks,"

"Even with a cabinet full?" Nick pointed behind him.

"Ugh, don't remind me, that thing is going to be the Bain of my life."

She didn't want to think about it. She knew it would do her good but when something has been a constant in her life for so long, it was hard to let go.

"We'll put in my flat for the time being then," he suggested.

"I have a key."

"Touche. I'll have it back," he noted.

They laughed. It was a strange feeling to joke about something Carla had a daily battle with, like alcoholism.

They stopped and thought about it for a second. Could Carla ever really go without a drink? The potential was there. If the hiccups in her life stopped for a moment she'd stop reaching for the bottle, she knew she would in a heartbeat. It was getting to that moment that was the hardest part. How it ever really happen? Would the day come?

Nick looked to the floor then at her. "Am I better than wine?"

"Oh, yes, always," she knew it without doubt. It could be seen in her eyes. "And that's something I didn't think I could say."

 **The broken leg thing has actually happened believe it or not. It happened to an old friend, ten years on and he's still having problems. Rest up, kids. Listen to your doctors.**

 **Anywho, reviews are much appreciated.**


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